


How strong you are

by RockSaltandCherryPie



Series: Wincest "First" prompts [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Weechesters, hurt!chesters, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 05:19:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1806721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockSaltandCherryPie/pseuds/RockSaltandCherryPie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: "What about the boys patching and stitching up each others wounds ?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	How strong you are

 

There’d been bumps and bruises and scrapes and abrasions over the years that would be magically cured with band-aids and paternal _rub some dirt in it!_ s, but the first time Sammy got really hurt was an accident. He was seven years old and had been attacked by the Kitsune John was hunting. John had told his sons to wait in the car while he scoured the forest it was hiding in. Dean was in the front seat, looking out the window, making noises with his mouth. Sammy barely even made a sound when he climbed out the back window. He thought he could help their father, even though he had no idea what John was doing. Right when he did, the Kitsune snatched him up, slashing him across the ribs. Dean barely had time to register what had happened when he burst out of the car. He had no weapons, nothing. Luckily, John came back just in time to drive his blade deep into the Kitsune’s heart from behind.

"What the hell happened, Dean?!" John boomed once they were back at the motel and Dean was carrying Sam to the bed.

"Hold this here," Dean instructed to Sam while he got the rest of the medical supplies. Sam held the damp shirt to his chest.

"Huh?" John shouted. "Answer me, boy!"

"Dad… I don’t know… One moment he was in the car and the next, he… I’m sorry."

"You were supposed to be watching him."

"And I was… the whole time—except—"

"Do you see that _except_ almost cost Sam his life?”

Dean sat on the bed next to Sammy, looking over his dampened face. His brother needed his attention now. He removed Sam’s shirt and lay his body back down gently. John uttered out something about Dean not answering him, and then that he was going to the store to get more supplies. And then he was gone.

Sam looked up at Dean, eyes watery, nose all pink.

"Does it hurt?" Dean asked as he cleaned up the wound.

"Not really. Just a little."

"Then why are you crying you big goof?"

"Cause Dad’s mad at you…" His big eyes focused on where Dean was applying pressure, wet lashes fluttering over flustered cheeks.

"Whatever," Dean said. "He gets mad at me a lot. Just glad you’re okay, Sammy. Don’t do that again."

"I won’t. I’m sorry."

Dean patched up the wound good and tight with some clean gauze, then gently stroked Sam’s shoulder. “There. Look how strong you are.”

Sam smiled through teary eyes and spread his arms to hug Dean. Dean wrapped his arms around Sam and closed his eyes tight. He vowed to never let Sammy get hurt like that again.

٭

It was precisely fifteen years later when Sam had to stitch Dean up. Dean usually stitched himself up. He got all irritated otherwise, said he only trusted himself with a needle and thread, but there really was no other option here. The Wendigo slashed him good on his back right underneath his left shoulder blade, the one place he couldn’t reach.

"Sit down," Sam instructed, pulling out the two motel chairs.

"Damnit," Dean bit out, pulling his shirt off. He threw his leg over the chair and sat on it backwards, back to Sam, his arms coming up to fold over the chair.

Sam splashed some whiskey on the wound and Dean hissed, reaching behind to grab at the bottle and take a swig.

Sam cut the thread between his teeth and leaned in, starting to carefully stitch him up.

Dean was complaining the whole time; _shit fuck fuck shit damn it_ , taking more gulps of the liquor.

"You’re okay," Sam kept saying.

When he was done his work he cut the thread again. Dean let out a deep breath after he swallowed one final sip of whiskey.

"See? Look how strong you are," Sam said, smile playing on his lips.


End file.
